


Angels vs Demons

by portbleck



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Broken Bones, Kinda, M/M, Reference to Torture, Reference to gore, based on the gta game type, dub-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-08-30 09:25:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8527774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/portbleck/pseuds/portbleck
Summary: Ryan, Michael, Gavin = AngelsJeremy, Andy, Trevor = Demonsi know that the let's play came out a while ago but im a slut for aus man(burnvin and juggey will probably come later?? get some geoff an jack in some configuration in there too)





	1. i did this instead of my personal statement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy is a spikey boy  
> https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crested_gecko#/media/File%3AGekkoninae_Rhacodactylus_ciliatus_tete.png  
> (his spikes are like this but red and reaching from his eyes into his hairline)

Jeremy knew that pissing off an angel, however fun it might be, was a dangerous game. 

Though when he saw those dimpled, windswept features creased with annoyance, Jeremy knew he couldn't resist seeing how far he could push him.

 ___

Michael had been fuming when they were separated, Gavin had put on the bravest face he could whilst trying to stop shaking and Ryan watched them being led away, hands tied by the wrist to where their wings were rooted in their backs. The demon behind Ryan was doing the same to his own wings, manipulating them so they were folded flat against his back, which Ryan was rather glad about, as having them able to unfurl during what he could only assume was interrogation would place even more strain on his arms. He just had to hope the torture would involve more pulpy, flesh wounds that would heal more easily than breaks or dislocations, which would take hours to mend, or would need to be manually reset by one of his brothers. 

Those were the worst.

This whole ordeal was just irritating and demeaning if Ryan was being quite honest; Jack had said that the orders came straight from the top, but Ryan wasn't sure how a deserted human hangar filled with shipping containers was really a vital base that required divine intervention to protect.

In any case, their boss would likely send another few angels to negotiate the return of his favourite boy Gavino (angels James and Michael just came with the package) so Ryan would just have to grin and bear whatever the demon behind him had in store.

Said demon had tied Ryan together sufficiently enough that he had stopped to admire his handiwork and was now brushing over his wing bone with his knuckle, right where the rope met the darker brown of his downy feathers.

“Would you mind hurrying up? I don't imagine you'll have that long to wring anything out of me if we don't start soon.”

The hands along his wings stopped and then dug in to pull Ryan’s feathers against the grain, grabbing on to the rope when fingertips found their way there and hoisting him up.

“You're a little impatient for an angel.” The demon breathed against his nape.

“And you're a little short to be making comments like that into my ear, hell-spawn.” Ryan bit back.

___ 

Jeremy giggled at the snark of the man, the angels he usually encountered were either hardened with the will of God backing their actions, or screaming with pain at a demon’s (sometimes his) hands. It was kind of jarring to see the varying reactions of the three different beings that they’d captured.

The red-head would have been the perfect image of a traditional angel, had it not been for the cursing that stained the otherwise righteous rage spouting indignantly from between snarled lips and gritted teeth. The British one better lived up to his expectations, timid but trying to hide it from his brothers or whoever was directly in charge of him. 

The trio seemed close to each other, but unskilled in fighting together; whilst the red-head and his own sassy prisoner were actually pretty good in a fight, they weren't too great with communication and kept getting cornered individually.

Nonetheless, the angel remained blasé about the whole ‘being captured by the agents of hell’ thing. Even though he was seemingly new to group work, this was clearly not his first time on the block.

“So what is your deal?” Jeremy asked, adopting a more casual tone and delivering a toed kick to the angel’s Achilles' tendon to get him moving, “You a closet masochist or have you done this before?”

The angel reacted by moving forward at a similarly casual pace, and huffed out a condescending chuckle.

“It's a bit early in the day to be interrogating me, isn't it? We’re not even near any pliers.”

“Just making small talk, man. And I guess that’s a ‘yes’ to the closet masochism.” 

A shrug of the shoulders and a light shaking of the angel’s head told him that none of his jabs were getting under the veneer of superiority that was reflected by his treating his situation as an inconvenience. Hell, even Jeremy would be pretty scared if he was about to be tortured by himself, and Boston doesn't breed fear too easily.

Jeremy hoped the annoyance was a sign of deeper emotions; cutting into an empty, though snooty, vessel for God’s bidding wouldn't be as much fun as exposing the raw nerves of a fleetingly fallible being.

___ 

As they walked, the corridor around them faded into a wafting smog that glutted on light, gathering thicker as they drew close to the door at its end.

The single sheet of dented steel came into view and Ryan felt his skin and feathers prick in anticipation. The blood crusted over long-healed bullet wounds itched under the holes in his shirt and he felt his eyes flutter closed when the demon reached around him, pressing up against his wings and wiggling the door’s flimsy handle open. 

Ryan was thrust into the darkness and heard the lock click to with a violent slamming of it in its all too fragile holdings.

“You holding up ok, big guy?” He heard the demon smirk, before Ryan winced at the brightness of the acrid orange bulb, switched on with dramatic flair.

Even under his furrowed brow, Ryan still managed an unimpressed, sardonic look towards the demon.

He allowed himself to be led to the blocky, wooden chair by the table in the centre of the room. Once sat down, the demon took the binding of his wrists and wings in hand and refastened them against the back bars of the cheap, pale pine. His wings were allowed a fragment of reprieve when the demon lent down and tied each ankle to the chair legs, bucking and twitching with their limited freedom.

His gaoler stood up smoothly before digging his hand into the juncture of Ryan’s right wing, supporting it with his other hand and pulling the muscles taunt, extending them towards the bracket on the wall before meeting the two halfway with the thin cord of nylon rope rooted to the breeze blocks.

There was a scratch of the rope on his flesh as it slid awkwardly between his flight feathers and was fixed in place as the demon reached to the fixtures on floor and low ceiling. Second and third twists of twine suspended his wing in the air and the compulsion to shiver was barely suppressed. Just as a hand was laid on Ryan’s left, there was an electrical buzzing and both angel and demon’s eyes were riveted towards the red light now flashing slowly behind the door in time with the beeps.

“Aw shit.”

“Trouble?” Ryan asked, adopting a slightly curious tone that betrayed his interest, but not the extent to which Ryan was excited by the changes and reactions to the situation.

“Ok, stay here,” the demon laughed nervously, “not like you have anywhere to go.”

As the demon got up from his position hunched over the knots, Ryan tracked him move across the room, patting himself down to check everything was in place before swaggering in front of Ryan and giving him a jaunty grin. 

“So, pizza’s in the fridgerator, don't have any parties while I'm gone and try not to burn the place down please,” he cooed in a maternal falsetto, “Love you, baby.” 

“Stay safe, my darling hell-spawn.” Ryan responded with a roll of his eyes.

The demon shook his head as he straightened up to leave the room, swinging his prehensile tail in time with his hips.

“By the way, stop calling me hell-spawn; you sound like a pastor I knew when I was human. Name’s Jeremy.” 

With that declaration, Jeremy pulled the door open and blew him a kiss before traipsing off down the hall.

Ryan didn't know why, but the idea of demons formerly being humans had never crossed his mind. He suppose it made sense, with the variations in accent and appearance. Though it made some of his faith in humanity slip away. Ryan himself had been a human. In fact, outside of inner circle of arch angels, the overwhelming majority of angels became divine through promotion due to their devout lives on Earth. 

A few centuries into his angelic role and James: the humble, yet respectable, God-fearing farmer, had become Ryan: subordinate and fatigued from his divine duty.

He wriggled his wing in its holdings to test its position.

Yep. Still immobile.

Instead, he bent his other wing towards his face and fanned himself to alleviate the stifling heat and humidity of the cell.

As he did so, Ryan pondered on his partially effectual captor. He was a Bostonite, judging from his accent and what Ryan had gleaned from angels younger than himself about the development of America, though he was curious as to the period in time Jeremy hailed from. Was Ryan older, from a time when fewer men went to Heaven, or was Jeremy a fellow pilgrim who moved to Massachusetts or Salem? Many souls had gone to Hell in Salem, shortly before Ryan himself had ascended, but what exactly had been so atrocious about his past that he’d landed in Hell?

He’d determined that, like the wings of an angel, a demon’s horns must not give any indication as to what the beings had gotten up to in life, or else Jeremy had professionally dealt with lizards. The red dermal crest that traced from his eyes, along his forehead and into his hairline were distinct from the ungulate features of most demons he came across, with keratin horns and floppy, unarticulated tails that made them seem almost cuddly.

Not that Michael or Gavin would being viewing their captors in such a light, they had been taken first and were probably being tortured as Ryan was left idle and delirious from anticipation. 

___ 

Matt's briefing of Jeremy followed after the angel Michael’s confession and orders from the top required the subdivision to be contained whilst the meeting would be carried out. Andy was understandably sceptical when the angel had dropped his holy ranting and stated that he was here to parlay with their fallen master, but when their Matt had knocked impatiently on the door he had explained that Lilith was overseeing the changing hands of the prisoner to be interrogated by the Beast himself.

His and Trevor’s heads were still spinning. Sure, change was pretty common in the Pit, but was usually predicated by everyone involved knowing what was going on. According to Matt, they didn't actually have to do much, just stay out of the way whilst the devil and his right hand carried out an unknown objective.

“Just stay with the prisoners and keep them occupied, but don't hurt them too badly, boss’ orders.” Matt intoned, “They can't know that their brother is talking with us, or that he’s in there with Lucifer.”

“Well what do we say happened, they saw the light blinking?” Trevor asked.

“I don't know, make sure it's the same alibi but it really, doesn't matter. Say it was a hell-fire that got a bit too out of control or just tell them to shut up, I don't care,” Matt shook his head in exhaustion, but called out to them as they turned to leave “oh yeah, their names are James and Gavino by the way. The prisoner told us when we were waiting, if you wanna use that at all.”

Jeremy and Trevor turned down their respective hallways and made their way back to their prisoners. 

Familiarity wafted over Jeremy with the curling black mist and he breathed out calmly, before ruffling a hand through his hair and unlocking the door, slowly and teasingly.

“So,” Jeremy said, assuming the cockiness of his role like a shroud, “James.”

The angel’s eyes sharpened at the new admission of intelligence made by Jeremy.

“Was ‘the accident’ my Christian name dropping from the sky by any chance?”

“No, no. Your buddy Michael just got done telling us about you and Gavino next door. I mean, we don't know that much to be fair, Michael’s a loyal kind of guy, isn't he?” He sat on the table casually to give himself more height and a careless air that mimicked James’ own, “Held out for ages before we could get even the most basic information out of him. He’s not the archangel Michael, is he?”

James shook his head in assent and Jeremy sighed.

“Shame. I’m like to get my hands on one of the big shots one day.”

“And the accident?”

Jeremy waved his hand dismissively.

“Hell-flames transcended their layers and the suicides got a bit crispier than they should be. I mean it'd be ok, but I was planning on flaying you using a pressure washer.” He slammed a hand down on the table and shot a jovial smile down at James, “Guess that's off the cards now though.”

James’ eyes darted down in contemplation and Jeremy wondered what was going on between those pretty golden locks. 

“You want me to help brainstorm interrogation methods?” He asked, making unwavering eye contact once he raised his gaze from his lap.

“Sure thing James,” Jeremy said brightly, moving a light finger tip across the dips of the water-tight feathers of his wing, “you go by Jimmy or Jamie?”

“I go by Ryan.” 

Jeremy hadn’t expected that, the nickname question just being to get under the angel’s skin. Had Michael lied to them or was this angel being weirdly intimate and personal?

“There are way too many angels called James, second only to the amount of Michaels. Ryan is my middle name of Celtic origin so it's a lot less common.” His lips quirked, as if he hadn't expected this to throw Jeremy off track. “Gavino is lucky like that, not to many contemporary Roman Catholics ended up in Heaven.”

“You're being pretty candid about this whole thing man, I thought you wanted to get tortured.”

Ryan (allegedly) shrugged his shoulders.

“You told me your name freely, just returning the courtesy. Anything else you’ll have a harder time getting out of me.”

“Aww, how honourable!” Jeremy lit up, “There any other questions we can trade answers to, as a 20 questions type deal?”

Ryan arched a patronising brow at the juvenile suggestion, retreating into his default state of condescension. He really needed to be reminded of the power dynamic that undercut their casual conversation, so Jeremy slid his fingers between the stems of a row of feathers he’d just being carding through, tugging gently at where they were rooted into his skin.

The skin around Ryan’s eyes grew tight and Jeremy's playful demeanour became more threatening than before. 

“But if you wanna carry on with the torture, then sure.”

The angel lidded his eyes, as if relieved by the painful, yet less personal punishment.

“Though,” Jeremy chuckled, “it’s gonna be kinda hard to flutter back to Heaven if all three of your little battalion have clipped wings.”

___

Ryan knew Jeremy was playing with him, but he also knew that he wasn't exactly lying either, leaving him with two choices.

On the one hand Gavin and Michael would suffer, only to have Ryan battered and bruised and unable to help them to the extent he’d like; Michael was still young and he wasn't sure he’d even know how to navigate his way back to Heaven, and Gavin was much older than both Ryan and Michael, but didn't deal with pain well and was rarely sent on missions as a result. On the other, Ryan would give Jeremy a bunch of miscellaneous information of varying importance, without being forced, as if he were a coward.

Whilst the deliberation was painstaking in Ryan’s own mind, looking up at Jeremy showed that he already knew what answer Ryan opt to go for.

He needed to put his brothers first.

“20 questions it is then.” Ryan sighed, “What do you want to know?”

___

“That’s not how you play 20 questions, though I'm not really interested in playing the game. How about you just tell me about you, the human you? I never realised you feathery assholes used to be people, ‘til you said about Gavino.”

Ryan looked contemplative, considering just how much he valued his own privacy.

“And just to sweeten the deal, every 5 questions you answer, I’ll answer one of my own.”

“-and why would I be interested knowing about your life as a human?”

“It’s not your turn yet!” Jeremy chastised with a bop on the nose that Ryan refused to respond to, “But, I don't know, maybe I'm just attention-seeking. You not interested in what goes on my _perverse_ , demonic mind?”


	2. It's not a date, it's an interrogation, dude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy and Ryan get hot and 'Lilith' is hot.  
> (You can probably guess who Lilith is)  
> A lot of their characterisation comes from their Hogwarts Houses because that's sort of my go to for how someone would act (Ryan is Gryffindor and Jeremy is Slytherin so take that as you will), but I am worried about them coming across weirdly. Later chapters should make them more like themselves but they gotta get there first.

Ryan jerked his chin upward in assent and watched as Jeremy conjured a chair much like his own into the room to sit opposite him. Shrugging his haunches and flexing his wings, one stiff from its bonds and one awkwardly sandwiched in between his back and the wood, Ryan fixed the smug demon in front of him with a broaching look. 

“So where were you from before you bit it?”

“Born in British settlement in Georgia.” Ryan drew up as he spoke, puffing out his chest to drag the questioning out of the pool of informality it had slid into.

In response, Jeremy sank against the table with his thick forearms coming to prop his head up in his hands.

“British settlement like before the Declaration of Independence?” He asked, leaning closer into the arch of their conversation at Ryan’s quick nod, “Cool, I don't know too many pilgrims down here, why do you have that weirdly neutral American accent though? Shouldn't you be some gruff sounding British dude?”

“I was a second generation Georgian, so not really a pilgrim, but really it just kinda evens out when you're surrounded by numerous other souls with different dialects and languages.”

“How’d you get into Heaven then?” Jeremy asks with faux tentativeness. 

“Uh, that’s a pretty deep question.” Ryan huffed, “I guess just being moral, letting the Lord guide my will and back my actions-“

Jeremy tilted his head along with the skyward point of his slitted eyes as he interrupted Ryan.

“No I mean what was your death like? I've got a pretty good idea of what you do to go to Heaven; you just sit in a cloister with a cage around your dick for twenty years ‘til you die of dysentery or Vikings.” 

“Oh,” Ryan affirmed, going quiet for a brief moment and reflecting on mortal trauma which by all account, should be far removed from his infallible experience, “Dysentery, or Vikings. Obviously.”

There was a dip in which Jeremy narrowed his eyes and Ryan swore he felt the ropes against the soft of his wrist grow taunt, searing into his skin suddenly. The demon then smiled, laughing whilst instantaneously banishing the sensation.

That’s all he was eliciting from the angel: sensation. Fleeting and unnerving.

“Ok, your turn big guy.”

“What was the sin that cast you down here?” Ryan asked, striving to maintain a justifiable curiosity for the infernal.

“What wasn't my sin, honestly?” Jeremy huffed, bringing a hand to trace along his crest, “Uh- I guess fraud is the main one? Violence? All that kind of shit. It was the prohibition, you know how it is.” 

Meeting eyes with Ryan's and noting the unchanged, inquisitive furrow of his brow, Jeremy mimicked the expression before asking:

“You know, the era of alcohol prohibition in the ’20s.” he paused as Ryan shook his head, “Seriously?”

Ryan looked almost apologetic as he explained that none of his younger brothers were alive around then, and any who ascended afterwards didn't address its existence, trying not to fidget under Jeremy’s silent attention. 

“Keeping tabs on the human world just became overwhelming, particularly once industry and international trade became common; those few years must have just passed me by.”

“It was like a whole decade!”

Noticing that Ryan seemed meekest when accused of ignorance, Jeremy feigned hurt and sank into his chair with a dramatic hand across his brow and a pained notch in his throat.

“I’ve suffered and toiled down here for nearly a century and _you_ and your kind are oblivious to mortal struggles that drove me to sin.” Jeremy’s words were unconvincing and over the top, but the exact amount of weariness, anger and sadness in his words were just so that the muttered lament struck Ryan deep.

Opening one eye to peep at his prisoner, Jeremy watched as a guilty, puppyish expression began to form on Ryan’s face. Fucking jackpot.

“I’m sorry for your misfortune, but we all of us face adversity to challenge our faith. Did you not repent?” Ryan asked, voice descending into a deep, droning octave, pulling piety across his words like chain-mail.

Ryan was clearly still guarded against his other manipulative wiles, but his weakness seemed to be his empathy, at least empathy for Jeremy’s specific situation. Either Jeremy’s alleged desperation had struck a cord with Ryan, or he was soft and benevolent under the hide of generic, angelic hostility towards demons.

In any case, Jeremy found himself sympathizing with his prisoner, but not so much that he wouldn't delight in teasing more emotional reactions from him.

“I had lost my faith in God after the death of Ma and Pa, it helped me deal with what I had to do in the Mob. I mean the connections were already in the family because of my parentage, but I didn't act on them ‘til I was about 16.”

Unnerving, fire-gold eyes were cast down in pretence as clear blue eyes tracked Jeremy’s movements to lean forward and clasp his hands on the desk. 

“Lots of protecting cars and boats of cargo, not too many deaths, but too many for my soul to remain unburdened.” Bringing a hand up to scratch his chin, Jeremy’s eyes flicked up to Ryan’s gaze, who flinched slightly at the intensity of it, but maintained eye contact nonetheless, “It was to support my brother, but he didn't get much support once I was gunned down.”

This entire encounter was just twisting the knife of his dwindling faith further and further in the war in Ryan’s mind.

“I’m sorry,” he said, trailing off into a much quieter defence, “God’s will is perfect and absolute, and not to be questioned by subservient and lesser beings.”

Jeremy’s eyes narrowed in an expression of genuine annoyance, smirking balefully and standing up, walking behind Ryan as he twisted around in his seat to track the demon pace closer.

“Do you _really_ believe that, James?” Jeremy crouched, body flush against the chair back and brushing his belly against Ryan’s knuckles poking through their cross bars, “Was your mortal pain worth your wings?”

Ryan eyes flicked forward and he gulped, raising his head up and trying to steady the quickening of his breath.

“Was mine?”

With one elbow laid flat against the lip of the chair back, Jeremy brought his head to hover over Ryan’s shoulder and his hand to bracket against the suspended wing. His own breath was naturally paced, unfazed by the rapidly encroaching intimacy of the threatening embrace, slowly sliding the buttons of Ryan’s torn shirt. Once his tie was loosened, Jeremy’s hand itched up to loosely grasp the hollow Ryan’s neck.

Feeling an Adam’s apple bob under his fingers, Jeremy murmured quietly into Ryan’s ear:

“Just doing my job as a pawn of evil,” as he tightened his grip and tugged Ryan’s earlobe into between his pointed teeth, “putting you through the necessary trials for moral maturity.”

Jeremy was merely making a point, but was surprised by an abortive little noise that found its way out of Ryan’s throat at the loosening of his palm.

“-Uhhg, I’m an in- infallible being.” Ryan coughed out in between nervous exhalations. “I’m already supposed to be morally mature.”

“…Yeah?”

“So, I’m supposed to be able to withstand any temptation.” He finished breathily.

Jeremy was thankful that Ryan was facing away from him so he wasn’t able to see the half-second of confusion and the couple of seconds of excited realisation before he could calm himself and settle back on smugness. 

“I mean, you’re _supposed_ to be able to.”

Ryan seemed to melt into the chair when Jeremy returned his fingers to his throat and squeezed with the meat of his palm, causing the column of his throat to spasm. Trailing bites from just behind Ryan’s jaw to the junction of his neck, Jeremy pricked his ears to hear the soft stiflings of groans. Instead of choking him out in earnest, the demon was massaging his throat and causing brief periods where Ryan couldn't breathe, his gasps becoming more and more erratic in between asphyxiations. 

He thought for a second about wetting his fingers in Ryan’s mouth but didn't want to have to grow his knuckles back if the angel was keeping up that violent struggle like he’d had before. Instead, he slid his tongue across the pads of his own fingers and slipped them into Ryan’s shirt. Manhandling Ryan’s neck to the side and sucking a bruise deep into the pale skin, raking a nail across the nub of his nipple and feeling the powerful being under him quake.

Just as he was about to rip the angel’s shirt buttons open for better access, Jeremy was struck with a face full of feathers as the loose wing’s ulna dealt a blow across his cheekbone. Jeremy withdrew at the brunt of the hit, yanking his hand out of Ryan’s shirt and stumbling backwards from the impact. 

Ryan breathed a ragged breath as he heard Jeremy’s soft curse. It was involuntary, though Ryan was thankful to the horned owl reflex actions that came with his wings, because this ‘infernal torment’ was getting out of hand. He anticipated the punishing clench of a hand on his carpals with brutal force and was somewhat relieved (and slightly self-satisfied) that Jeremy would stop playing with him and just get on with breaking his body. 

However, before rage completely clouded over his judgement, Jeremy heard the buzzing of the timer set to accompany the end of the Boss and Lilith’s session with Michael. Again, both captor and captive looked up to the light above the door, green this time, and heard the metallic clunk of the door being automatically unlocked.

“Well,” Jeremy said, releasing Ryan’s wing and letting it fall limp, “looks like I’ll just have to carry this on next time.”

He smacked his hands down abruptly on Ryan’s shoulders and the ropes fell in coils on the floor, freeing him completely. Jeremy stepped around to Ryan's side and offered him a hand out of the seat with a satisfied, though not malicious, smile. Gripping the base of the demon’s bicep for balance, Ryan drew himself up and stood independently, in spite of the pins and needles in his leg and blossoming pain in his wing.

Jeremy gave him a nod and they filed out of the room with no further discussion, Jeremy in the lead and Ryan traipsing behind him, head levelled in stoicism but body crumpled inwards, tensely. 

As they emerged from the murky darkness of the corridor, a bloody-nosed Gavin started excitedly only to be pulled back by his tied arms into the chest of an exhausted looking Trevor. Ryan’s own freed arms itched under Gavin’s confused gaze, that traced up to his open collar and bruises already set in deep purple. 

Jeremy and Trevor’s eyes met and with a tilt of Trevor’s head, they left the prisoners in the hallway and snaked down the corridor toward’s Andy’s interrogation room, their angels twisting to watch them leave.

As soon as they did so, Gavin whipped around to assess Ryan again with a disbelieving look.

“Good Lord, Ryan, what happened to you?”

“You know, interrogation.”

“Interrogation? Because it looks like-“

“-I'm aware what it looks like,” Ryan broke him off, his tired tone cutting the questions short with authority, “Doesn't matter anyway, they'll be healed by the time we get back.”

As Ryan trailed off quietly, Gavin turned away from him and stood silent for a moment, waiting for their other brother. The minutes winded on as the pair stood to attention and kept their eyes forward. They ached to know how the other was healing but since it should only be a few moments more, they could wait and assess Michael’s wellbeing in light of his brothers.

After a few minutes of nothing but the low whir of piping, Gavin grew impatient and flung a look Ryan’s way as if to comment on the lack of Michael. He took in Ryan’s appearance again, wiggling his sore nose and reached his fingers up to brush the dried blood flaking on his upper lip.

“So why did my nose get broken and you only got a few love bites?” 

“You probably pissed the nice demon off, he was just trying to do his job.” Ryan murmured, maintaining the poker face that had been raised after leaving the interrogation room.

Gavin wouldn't believe that they were actually hickeys, it would appear to be a cruel and unusual form of beating. 

“Yeah, alright Rye, what, did you beg for them not to hurt you badly?” As he teased Ryan, Gavin brushed against his crumpled wing and noticed the spasmodic movement of his feathers, accompanied by a barely contained flinch.

“Well if I did, it wasn't worth shit.” Ryan responded sardonically Gavin’s pointed concern.

Gavin looked down nervously as silence stretched over the hall way. Ryan sighed and held his head up, folding his arms behind his back and allowing Gavin his contemplation. He was tired, today hadn't been what he'd expected and he just wanted to get out of this place, out into the world where his healing would work faster and they could talk freely.

Those few hours in the human world, places untouched by dark or light, were freeing for Ryan. It felt somewhat like being human again, watching the people or being alone; feeling alone even with knowledge of the scope of God. Fucking around in a desert with Michael or roaming bustling streets with Jack were the warmest, most intimate of interactions he'd experienced with this fellow angels. 

The state he and Gavin were in as they stood shoulder to shoulder, wondering what the other had experienced and been offered to them as a form of interrogation, was uncomfortably personal. Whilst Heaven was unbearably immaculate and communal, Hell and such places tainted with the Infernal cast an individualistic fish-eye under across Ryan’s view. He just felt rubbed raw and vulnerable to close examination, where he was hardened against the lack of privacy in Heaven. 

A door slamming far away grated against his exposed nerves and Ryan’s head shot up in time with Gavin’s. They stood up straight as Michael’s assigned demon came out of the corridor first, followed by a demon they didn't recognise, with brown hair fading into a dusky rose at his shoulders with a rack of thick, furred antlers rising upward. Jeremy and Trevor bracketed the new demon and hung back, holding their hands in front of their hips with their legs spreading their weight out. 

“Ok,” the antlered demon said, stepping forward to the angels and running his eyes up them coldly, “you two will go back to Heaven, without your brother-“

Gavin made an indignant squawk and Ryan’s jaw dropped slightly.

“-you will tell your superiors that he’s ours until we send further notice.”

Both brothers burst out in apprehensive shouting at that point, only for them to be overcome with searing mental pain, pinned to the ground with convulsions. 

Through tearing eyes, Ryan saw the demon’s brow furrow and turn expectantly to the hallway.

The sea of red-hued demons in crimson suits parted and a pale woman could be seen in the doorway. She was a burst of sunlight in the oppressive dark, strands of whites and yellows weaving around her, highlighted with deep browns. Two small, dark horns poked past her fringe, swept to either side of her face, and the slits of her pupils grew wider on seeing them on the floor.

“Matt, see that they're left somewhere convenient,” she said, her words shooting through the fog of pain clearly and distinctly, “they'll be back for Michael soon enough.”

“Of course.” Matt responded, gesturing for Jeremy and Andy to move towards the angels writhing weakly on the floor.

As they did so, she seemed to shed her elevated air and made sincere eye contact with both of them. The pain lessened in their minds and whether it was because of the intensity of her look, or some kind of empathic communication, Ryan sensed that no bodily harm would come to Michael under her eye.

Jeremy’s hands, tugging Ryan’s rigid body over his shoulder, were the last thing he felt before his eyes rolled back into his head and he felt the rush of unconsciousness for the first time in hundreds of years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who Has parts of what?  
> Ch-1  
> Jeremy - Crested Gecko Crest and Tail  
> Ch-2  
> Ryan - Great Horned Owl Wings  
> Matt - Elk Antlers and Tail  
> 'Lilith' - Horned Viper Horns and Tail


End file.
